A Breath Away's Not Far
by ice-woman
Summary: A GD story. Takes place in the future, when Grace returns after college to plan her wedding to someone else.
1. There's No Place Like Home,Unfortunately

Disclaimer: I own nothing except for the original ideas in my own scattered mind. 

Feedback: Only if you want to live…I mean read more. (grins)

Summary: Takes place in the future. It will include August, yes, so never fear. By the way, I couldn't recall whether Lily's baby was male or female, so in my version, it's a girl. 

Chapter One: There's No Place Like Home (Unfortunately)

            Grace Manning pulled into her driveway in her new white jeep, a warm smile spreading across her face. Home, she thought. It had been so long since she'd last seen her family. 

Grace forced herself out of her car, opting to worry about lugging her belongings in later. Right now she was too exhausted from her long journey to unpack. Reaching the door, Grace lifted herself up upon her tiptoes, feeling around for the extra key in the gutter. Mom told her that they might not be home when she arrived, but they still hid the key in the same place. 

Letting herself into the dark house, Grace flicked the light switch, taking in the sweet aroma of her old house, a mild, lemony scent she had grown all too accustomed to. Yawning widely, Grace melted down onto a plush velvet couch she didn't recognize and allowed her eyes to slowly shut.

Her eyes may have been closed, but she was far from a state of sleep. Grace had too many worries on her mind to even consider drifting off. The past five years of her life had been such a blur and she couldn't even remember how her life had ended up this way.

After moving to Australia with her mother, Grace finished her senior year of high school. Tensions between her and her mother increased, especially when she discovered that Grace was attempting to contact her former literature teacher, August Dimitri. Grace never really did pluck up the courage to contact him, but her mother wouldn't even listen long enough to realize that.

So, naturally as soon Grace graduated she packed her bags, eager to head back to the States. She was accepted to Columbia University on a partial writing scholarship. Grace juggled two jobs to help support herself and pay for college, refusing any money her mother and Rick tried to offer her. Her dad never offered her money…the two hadn't spoken in years. Grace threw herself into college and her work, neglecting her family completely. She had resented her family for ruining her relationship with Mr. Dimitri, and being her usual stubborn self, cut off all contact with them.

She published a book in college, filled with a collection of her own short stories and poems. She entitled it "As the World Falls Down" in honor of her most personal short story, a piece inspired by her relationship with August. It did surprisingly well, even if it didn't exactly take the world by storm, and Grace was able to relax and not worry so much about money. Grace was majored in literature and minored in journalism, meshing two writing worlds within herself. The day she graduated college was the saddest day of her life; she was the only one there without family members watching. She decided then that she would have to let go off her childhood anger, and she spent that night crying on the phone with her mother and catching her up on everything new in her life. She made amends with her entire family, all except for her father, who remained stubborn, refusing to speak to her. 

A month after she graduated, Grace was hired at the New Yorker at first as just a book reviewer. Grace loved being paid for merely reading and commenting on books, an act she had been doing for free nearly all of her life. Grace made many new friends within the company, and it was all because of Sharon Deisser that she met her now fiancé. Sharon was one of the theatre critics and while reviewing "the Producers", she made Grace come along with her, convinced that she wasn't getting out nearly as much as she should be. Grace loved the comedy, and afterwards met the actor/musician Marcus Renter who had played the play's lead character Max Bialystock. He and Grace hit it off right away, and it wasn't long before the two started dating. He was extremely sweet and passionate about his music and he encouraged Grace's writing incessantly. He proposed to her about a month ago on the empty Broadway stage. Surprised but ecstatic, Grace eagerly agreed, and the two planned on marrying in June.

This engagement is precisely what brought Grace home. Lily and Rick only stayed out in Australia a few more months after Grace left, then they brought the entire family back to Illinois with them; minus one. Grace's grandmother never fully adapted to the move out to Australia, and died one month before the family returned home. Her grandmother's death always made Grace feel guilty for leaving Australia so rashly, but as she couldn't go back and change her past, Grace learned to accept her mistakes and move on. And she really was moving on into a whole new life with Marcus. 

When Grace told her mother the exciting news, Lily began bawling on the phone, rambling about "her little Gracie growing up". She insisted that Grace come home for a little while, so Grace took a leave of absence from her work and flew out to Chicago. Marcus was finishing touring with the cast of "Chicago". He was playing lawyer Billy Flynn and still had another week before he was due to arrive in Chicago. Grace couldn't wait for him to arrive and meet the family. She knew that they would love him instantly.

"Gracie? Gracie are you here?" a familiar feminine voice asked.

Grace's eyes shot open at once and a small smile crept over her face. Climbing to her feet, Grace entered the kitchen where her mom stood waiting, an emotional mess to say the least.

Grace embraced her mother tightly, wondering how she could have ever once thought she could survive without her family. Her mom pulled away first, wiping a few silent tears from her face, while trying desperately to contain all of her emotion.

Grace had to laugh at the artistic sight her mother painted. "Oh mom," she sighed, shaking her head. 

"I'm sorry," Lily said. "But I haven't seen you in years Gracie."

Grace smiled and squeezed her mom's shoulder. "Where's the rest of the herd?"

"They're getting their school stuff. They should be right in."

"Oh my God! Graaaaaaaaaaaace!" wailed a tall, lanky brunette who soared into the room, backpack swinging wildly as she tackled her sister.

Grace laughed as she hugged her sister. She had to admit she missed Zoe immensely. Zoe was, after all, her younger sister with her fiery temper and quirky personality. Grace hated that she missed watching Zoe grow up. She hardly recognized this now grown young woman who seemed to be permanently attached to her side.

"Hey kid," Zoe said, mussing Zoe's dark brown hair. "How've you been?"

Zoe stood up and sighed, a long, drawn out, overdramatic sigh. "High school _sucks_," she announced.

Grace laughed while her mother hit Zoe with the dish towel in her hand. 

"Zoe!" Lily warned.

"It's fine," Grace assured her. "I missed this drama queen."

"Yeah, do you know how _weird_ it was without an older sister to fight with?" Zoe joked. "The only one left here is the _little one._"

"Zoe Manning! You leave your sister alone!" Lily scolded.

"Sorry," Zoe mumbled, turning to Grace and rolling her eyes. "The kid's _evil_," she mouthed to Grace.

"Mommy! Mommy! Mommy!" a small voice called. A five year old little girl toddled inside, a piece of paper in her hand. "I made it for you and Daddy," she claimed triumphantly.

"Oh wow!" Lily exclaimed, scooping the fair-haired girl into her arms. "Maddie, I love it! Let's hang it on the fridge, okay?" 

"Okay," Madison giggled, helping her mom place a magnet over the picture.

"Hey, Maddie, do you remember Gracie?" Lily asked.

"I'm so glad she can't add an "ie" onto my name," Zoe remarked.

"Zo!" Lily exclaimed as she set Maddie down. "Go get ready for work."

"All right, all right," Zoe remarked.

Maddie walked up to Grace curiously and then started pointing into the living room. "The book!" she yelled.

"The book?" Grace questioned. "No, no, Maddie, I'm your sister Grace."

Maddie huffed. "_The book_," she said firmly.

Grace looked up at Lily in confusion. Lily shrugged as Maddie ran out of the room.

            "She gets like that sometimes," Lily remarked. "She gets in these moods and just wants to be left alone."

            "Oh," Grace said, a bit hurt that her own sister didn't remember her. Not that she could blame her. After all, the last time Grace had seen her, she was barely one.

            "Where's Rick?" Grace asked, cutting herself a piece of chocolate cake.

            "Still at work," Lily replied. "He won't be home for another couple of hours. But Jessie will be here soon."

            "Jessie?" Grace asked, baffled.

            "Yeah…stepsister…year younger than you…tiny, blonde thing about…"

            Grace rolled her eyes. "I _know_ who Jessie is. I just didn't know she was visiting."

            "Visiting?" Lily asked, the confusion being passed on to her. "Oh! I thought you knew. Jessie still lives with us."

            "She does?" Grace asked in disbelief. "_Why_?"

            "_Grace_!" Lily warned. "She's had a hard time dealing with all of the problems in her life. I mean, it can't be easy coming to terms with being a lesbian, plus battling an eating disorder…"

            "Oh right, so I see nothing's changed," Grace remarked, slamming her plate of untouched cake down onto the counter. "Jessie's still the golden child, no matter what."

            "Grace, don't be ridiculous. And you of all people! I thought you'd be a bit more understanding. Jessie has a lot to deal with right now."

            "Well, so do I!" Grace shouted. "Why does no one _ever_ include me?"

            "Well, let's think about it this Grace, you blocked us out of your life for four years," Lily said sharply. "I lied, more like six years, starting your junior year. You kept to yourself in your own little Grace world and refused to accept any interference from anyone."

            "That's not true!" Grace yelled.

            "Oh, right, August Dimitri was granted entry into your sacred world." 

            Her mom's words stung. She never knew her mom could still be so angry about a subject so long buried.

            "Well," Grace said, narrowing her eyes. "At least I remember why I shut you out."

            Lily paused, obviously hurt by her daughter's harsh words. Just then a loud crash was heard from the living room. The two rushed towards the sound, thankful to see only a broken picture frame and Zoe hovering above it.

            "Zoe!" Lily shouted. "What happened?"

            "Why do you two always do this?" Zoe demanded. "You _always_ fight, about _everything_. Why can't you just STOP? Grace already went away for a _long_ time and I don't want her leaving again! So just _stop_! Please…"

            "Oh, Zo," Grace began, suddenly embarrassed about her childish behavior.

            "No," Zoey said, fleeing up the stairs.

            "God," Grace muttered turning towards her mom. "Look, let's just leave well enough alone. We obviously have differences that will _never_ be sorted out, no matter how hard we try. Let's just leave the past in the past, and try to move on. Okay?"

            Lily smiled. "Just when I think you can't possibly grow any older, you contradict me."

            Grace grinned. "So where am I staying?"

            Grace dragged her heavy suitcases up the wobbly wooden stairs that led to the garage apartment. She set her luggage to the far side of the room, out of the way of Jessie's belongings. Her mother told her she could use the bureau on the right side of the room and that Jessie agreed to lend half of her closet space. Eager, to get the grunt work out of the way, Grace hurried with her unpacking, shoving clothes in their proper place, and stacking books along her temporary air mattress. 

            Once she had finished, Grace flopped down upon her air mattress, understandably exhausted. She decided a short nap couldn't hurt, but before she could even reach for the lamp, she heard soft footsteps coming up the stairs.

            "Hey," a quiet voice said.

            "Hey," Grace replied, forcing herself to sit up. She took a long look at the tall blonde standing before her. Jessie had changed so much, and yet, so little. Her hair lightened, and had white blonde highlights in it. She had grown a bit and was now taller than Grace. She also seemed somewhat _different_. Grace couldn't place just how yet, but she knew it was there.

            "Do you need any help?" Jessie asked, pushing her soft, long hair over her shoulder with indefinite grace; an act that Grace often despised and envied all throughout her high school years.

            "Nah," Grace said, waving her hand. "I'm pretty much done." 

            "Oh, okay," Jessie said cautiously, tiptoeing around the room, hands held nervously behind her back. She bit her lip, a nervous habit, and focused her attention upon some of Grace's books. "Oh!" she said suddenly, as if finding the perfect conversation starter. "I read your book."

            "Oh? That was nice of you," Grace said.

            "Yeah, I thought it was great," Jessie admitted, smiling. "Some of your poems were really awesome."

            "Thanks," Grace smiled. "So…what have you been up to?" she asked, hoping to cut some of the tension from the room.

            "Well, I've been taking a few college courses here and there," Jessie explained. "I'm not in any particular rush to finish. I should be done in three more years if I continue at this pace, maybe one if I move to being a full-time student. I'm majoring in drama. I'm hoping to one day get onto Broadway. That would be amazing!"

            "Yeah, it would," Grace said, remembering how they once competed for the part of Rosalind for their high school play. "You'll be a great actress…especially with _your_ voice."

            "Thanks," Jessie blushed.

            "Yeah, my fiancé, Marcus, he's actually a performer. He's been on Broadway a few times. He's actually finishing up a tour with his cast. They're doing "Chicago" and he's Billy Flynn."

            "Are you serious?" Jessie asked, incredulous. "That's unbelievable! He must be _amazing_."

            "He's great," Grace admitted.

            "Wow," Jessie said, still unable to fully take in this news. "I've only done a few plays since high school. Just local theaters. And, I'm helping out at this new community theater for teenagers. I'm assisting the director. It's a lot of fun."

            "What are you doing?" Grace asked.

            "Right now we're doing "Damn Yankees". It's one of my favorites."

            "Well good luck…I mean, break a leg," Grace joked.

            "Thanks," Jessie said grinning, as she ran her hand over some of Grace's books. "Mind if I peek through?"

            "Not at all," Grace said. "I'm actually going to run to the kitchen to grab some iced tea. Do you want anything?"

            Jessie shook her head. "No, I'm good."

            "Okay," Grace insisted, clamoring down the stairs. She hurried into the kitchen, grabbing two glasses, and pouring herself and Jessie some iced tea. She heard the sounds of the Dawson's Creek theme song nearby. She poked her head into the living room where Zoe sat, enticed in an episode of Dawson's Creek.

            "Is this show still alive?" Grace asked.

            "Shh…" Zoe mumbled. "She's gonna kiss him, I just know it!"

            Grace chuckled inwardly as she headed back upstairs. "I know you said you didn't want any, but…" Grace began.

            "You still have this?" Jessie asked, holding up Grace's Chekhov book.

            "Yeah, why?" Grace asked, setting Jessie's glass of iced tea on her desk.

            "It's just…I would have thought that after everything…you would have thrown it away…" Jessie trailed off, her eyes scanning the ground.

            Grace was shocked at the prospect of throwing the book out. It was _hers_. It was priceless. She looked down upon Jessie, who was still in so many ways, a child. "Jessie, that book means more to me than anyone will ever know. I could never part with it."

            "Well, it just caused so much fighting between you and your mom," Jessie shrugged. "I figured since you two were past that, you were past this too."

            "Jessie, we _are_ past that and I _am_ past this. It's just that sometimes memories are good to hold on to. They're reminders of past mistakes."

            "So you finally admit that the fling you and Mr. Dimitri had was a mistake?" Jessie asked.

            "Well…no," Grace said. "And it wasn't a fling. It was one kiss and it's in the past. But I wouldn't change it for anything in the world. He was an amazing man and I learned so much from him. I just wish other people could see that."

            "Grace, it's just still _weird_," Jessie said. "I mean he was like twenty years older than you and…and it was just…"

            "Weird?" Grace asked, suddenly angry.

            "Well…yeah," Jessie said meekly.

            "And what, being a lesbian isn't weird?" Grace snapped.

            Jessie shook her head, fighting back tears. "You know Grace, for someone so smart, you _always_ miss the bigger picture."

            "What _bigger picture_?" Grace remarked. "The fact that no matter what you do, it's acceptable, and everything I do isn't? The fact that you can stay here and live off your parents while I'm actually out there making something of myself? I don't get it Jessie…what else am I missing."

            Jessie let a small sob escape from her face as she neared the stairs. She turned back around, her face scrunching up in pain. "Everything," she spat, storming off.

            Grace shook her head and flopped down on her air mattress. Maybe returning home wasn't the greatest idea she ever had.

What did you think? Please be honest. Even painfully honest. Review!


	2. The Ironies of Mona Lisa

Okay guys, here's chapter two…sorry it took so long. But, now it's summer and I can update more often if you'd like. Please r/r and let me know what you think.

Chapter Two: The Ironies of Mona Lisa

The days dragged by for Grace, and tensions between her and Jessie were still as thick as ever. She was beginning to doubt the instinct that told her to return home. She loved her family, but she didn't much _like_ her family. It seemed she had gone out in the world and found herself, and moved forward, but her family stayed stuck in their own little world. It was like in high school when she knew she had to change, but she seemed to be the only one to catch the train. Change was a way of life, and her family did not seem to appreciate the change within her. Or perhaps she didn't let them. Either way, Grace's living arrangement was not working out to either her or Jessie's liking. So, she had decided to bring up the subject that night at dinner, a discussion she was very much dreading.

Lily made chicken alfredo, Jessie's favorite dish, and even Grace couldn't find any fault with the meal. She was just surprised to see Jessie helping herself to seconds.

"Look! Look!" Maddie shouted, pointing at Grace.

Grace furrowed her eyebrows. "What is it Maddie?" she asked. Her patience with the child was dwindling. She wanted to see the beauty within the young girl, but so far, only Zoe's philosophy of the girl's evilness seemed to shine through. She was a right little terror, screaming at three in the morning, throwing tantrums until she got her way, drawing all over Zoe's walls, and refusing to eat anything that wasn't chocolate. Grace wondered how she could be the black sheep of the family with this demon on the loose.

Maddie laughed maliciously, if a five year old can fully feel malicious, and glared at Zoe, her eyes narrowing. Grace swore she was working out a curse to place upon Zoe…no child could stare _that_ intently.

"Mom, I'm out of here," Zoe said, getting up. "She's so creepy."

"Oh, shut up Zo," Jessie remarked. Grace felt a bit defensive. No one talked to her little sister like that! No one except her, of course. "She's such a sweetheart. I don't know why you dislike her so much."

Jessie reached for Maddie and scooped her up in such an elegant manner that sickened Grace. Grace to Zoe and saw her roll her eyes. At least they had one thing in common; they both had 'sisters' they didn't want.

"Girls, stop it," Lily said, not looking up from a newspaper article in her lap. "Oh, look Jess!" she squealed. "They've written about 'The Iliad' again."

Jessie's eyes widened as she snatched the article from Lily's hands. 'The Iliad' was the theater she worked at as assistant director and vocal coach. "Look, my picture's in it! See! That's me working with Ted Olynick! He's the founder! We were going over the auditions for "Damn Yankees"! Wow, I can't believe we made the paper! I knew the show did very well, but I never knew it was _this_ successful!"

Zoe clicked her tongue. "Whatever," she muttered. Grace noticed she had a tongue ring. "It's just a stupid theater."

Jessie's eyes narrowed. "You're just mad, because you were too scared to audition."

Zoe glared at her stepsister for a moment then turned to Grace. "I wasn't scared," she said, looking at Grace. "I just didn't have time. I mean, I work two jobs and…"

"Blah, blah, blah," Jessie mocked in a tone that Grace thought was reserved especially for her.

"Girls, _please_!" Lily yelled. "Zoe, you should be happy for Jessie. She did a good thing. Stop taking your misery out on the rest of us!"

Zoe huffed. "Fine, me and my misery are just going to leave and never come back!" she announced, walking to the back door, and slamming it behind her. "_Ever_!" she added for good measure.

Lily sighed. "She's so overdramatic," she insisted.

"Maybe she just wants a little attention," Grace suggested.

"Oh, God," Jessie groaned. "Not this conversation again! Listen, Zoe just needs to figure life out for herself. We can't spoon feed her and have her expecting she can get everything she wants."

Grace stared at Jessie's feeble attempt to be virtuous. "Well, she's obviously very upset about this play. Zoe lives for dancing and performing. Didn't anyone try to help her out with her stage fright?"

Lily shook her head. "Grace, I've kind of had my hands full," she muttered, watching as Maddie broke into a can on caramel corn. "We've all had to make sacrifices because of the baby, and well, Zoe will have to learn to carry a little more responsibility than she's used to. She'll get over it, you did."

Grace bit her tongue. She didn't want to let her mother know that she never fully got over the fact that her mother was never there for her anymore after Jessie and the others moved in. She'd never tell her mother about how she idolized Jessie's relationship with her, going insane night after night, wondering why she couldn't be the perfect daughter Jessie was. She could relate with Zoe exactly. No wonder Zoe was so glad to see her come home.

"Listen," she began. "I've been thinking…this whole arrangement…me living here…well, it's not really working out and…"

"No, Gracie, don't tell me you're leaving." Lily's eyes looked worried, and Grace, for the first time in her life, thought of her as old. "You just got here."

"I'm not leaving," Grace stopped her. "I just think I'm going to rent an apartment out here for a while. I'll probably stay about six months. And, that way, I'll be out of your hair, and not turning your lives upside down, as usual."

"Grace, if this is because of me…" Jessie began.

Not everything's because of _you_ Jessie, Grace wanted to say. But she'd learned to control her temper, a bit. "No, Jess, it's not. Plus, Marcus will be here in another week, and I think it will be better if we have our own place."

Lily nodded. "But, you're not leaving?"

"No, I'm staying in the area," Grace assured her. "I want you guys to get to know Marcus, and also I want to have my wedding here."

Lily sighed. She didn't want Grace to leave the house, but she had a feeling they'd all be under less stress if she went. She loved Grace dearly, but she always carried so many troubles and chaos with her, something that the Manning house never held in too well. Plus, Maddie seemed to be afraid of her and her and Jessie took to fighting again. She didn't want her home to fall apart all over again. "I guess you're right," she said at last. "Maybe you getting your own place is for the best."

Grace smiled and hugged her mom. "It is, trust me. Now, I've already been in touch with a real estate agent who has a few places in mind. She's talked to a guy who lives on Summerset Avenue, you know, the road about six blocks from Zoe's school? Well, he's going away to Boston for a few months, he's a writer I think she said…or artist, something like that. Well, he's looking for inspiration or something like that, and he's renting out his house for six months. Isn't that perfect?"

Lily smiled. "That is really convenient. You'll be close to home and have just enough time to plan the wedding here."

Jessie forced a smile, and Grace wondered if she felt a little guilty for her treatment of her. "But, if you ever want to come back…"

Grace reluctantly grinned. "I know Jess. And…thanks."

"Okay…well, I have to go," Jessie said, swallowing a sip of water. "I have to go through the old costumes at 'The Iliad'. They're not going to return themselves, you know."

A sudden thought occurred to Grace as Jessie left. She rushed out of the kitchen, following her. "Hey Jessie!"

Jessie turned, her blonde hair flowing in the wind. Grace still wanted to hate her so badly. "Yes?" she asked, distracted.

"I have a crazy idea," Grace began. "Now, I know you guys do plays during the spring, august, and summer, and as it's almost winter, your work's over for a little while."

"I guess," Jessie said, as though loathing the thought of spending a winter without her theater.

"Well, Marcus isn't exactly the greatest help when it comes to weddings," Grace began. "And, he's not going back to work until after the wedding. So, I thought maybe, he could help you. I mean, you guys could start a winter theater program. And, before choosing a show, maybe Marcus could help give any interested kids some tips and advice. You know, sort of like a theater workshop. That way, Zoe will be able to get the help she needs, as well as others, you get to keep working there for the winter, and I can keep Marcus occupied."

Jessie beamed. "Really? You think he'd go for the idea?"

Grace laughed. "Are you kidding me? He'll go nuts once I tell him. He loves kids."

"Wow," Jessie said tauntingly. "Are you sure he's your match? I know how much you hate kids," she teased.

"That's not true!" Grace insisted. "I don't _hate_ kids…I just don't _like_ them. There _is_ a difference…I hope."

Jessie giggled. "Well, give me a call once you talk to him. I'll go run the idea by Tad now. I'm sure he'll love it."

"Okay Jess, have fun," Grace called, walking back inside the house. She smiled. She felt like she had finally made a positive impact in her family, for once.

XxX

Grace received a message from her real estate agent the next morning telling her she was sick and couldn't visit the house with Grace, but left the address. As the agent had called from her cell phone, she couldn't quite make out the number of the house she was supposed to look at, but Summerset Avenue was a small street and Grace was certain she could find the house on her own.

So, Grace left the house at nine thirty, dropping Maddie off to daycare on the way. Grace then turned onto Summerset Avenue, rolling down the street at fifteen miles per hour, straining her eyes to spot any house with a "For Rent" sign. Once Grace pulled onto the second block, she immediately spotted a real estate sign, and parked along the right side of the street. She turned off her ignition, staring at the house for a few more moments. This couldn't be right, she thought. Perhaps there was another house for rent? There were, after all, two more blocks.

But the more Grace argued inside of her head, the less sense she seemed to make. Finally deciding she was at the right house, she forced herself out the door, and around her car. She sighed, wondering why this house still affected her so. It wasn't as if he still lived here.

Biting her lip, Grace reluctantly traveled back in time to her junior year of high school. This house was like a sanctuary to her back then, and now, it was the last place on earth she wanted to be. She didn't want these buried feelings to return to her; but they did nonetheless.

She remembered being seventeen and falling in love with her English literature teacher and the profoundness with which he spoke, the depth in his simplest of movements, the very grace which emanated from his body when his eyes flared up with passion. Mr. Dimitri, August; how poetic. Oh, she fell hard, so very hard; and she had never quite recovered. She could still taste his kiss, the kiss that she had, in the heat of the moment, initiated, yet still his soft lips met hers, and he subtly returned her kiss, with the same vigor and passion that surged through her. She could still picture his face as he turned away from her that last time, the day he was suspended from teaching, the day he walked out of her life, forever. She'd never forget that moment for as long as she lived.

But, time changed their circumstances, and she moved to Sydney. She heard a few months later from Judy that August was moving away, she drove past and saw the for sale sign. Grace pretended not to care, but she did. She hadn't wanted him to leave. She always fantasized she return and he'd be there waiting for her, the way Rhett came back to Scarlett in "Scarlett". She waited patiently for part two of her novel life; but it never came. And then, she moved to New York, and she met Marcus. And now, now her life was complete. And the last thing she needed was to return to this house.

Grace braced herself, repeating over and over in her mind the fact that August no longer lived here, so this shouldn't be weird. Why was she making this feel so weird? She rounded the driveway and knocked on the side door.

Instantly, she felt embarrassed for doing so. When August lived here, she always came through the side door. But August _doesn't_ live here, she reminded herself, and you have no right to knock on the side door like a close friend or family member would.

After what seemed like an eternity of waiting and inward debating on whether or not to run, the door opened. A pretty blonde with ringlets and a poster-girl smile stuck her buttoned nose out, sparkling blue eyes studying Grace.

"Grace Manning?" she questioned.

Grace smiled and nodded. "Yeah. Sorry about using the side door…I…"

"No problem," she said, beaming and pulling her inside. "My boyfriend doesn't know you're coming," she explained. "He doesn't want to move, I'm making him, for my art. Let me just get him really quick. Oh, I'm Celia by the way."

Grace nodded. So she was an artist. She allowed her eyes to travel around the kitchen. She nearly laughed when realizing she couldn't recognize a single thing inside of it. Loud, colorful plates line the dish drainer, funky cups sat eschew in the glass cupboards, and an odd plastic tablecloth lined with portraits of "the Mona Lisa" replaced the simple, yet familiar décor Grace had once known. She could have never imagined the place had changed so drastically.

"Honey, come _on_," the blonde insisted, tugging her boyfriend into the room. Grace brought her attention back to the Celia.

"Hon, this is Grace Manning," Celia began. "And Grace, this is my boyfriend August…"

"Dimitri," Grace spat out without meaning to. Grace suddenly felt chills and felt the urge to sit down. Her vision blurred slightly as she tried to focus in on the picture before her. August was standing less than four feet in front of her. She didn't know what she felt. She was still too shocked. She did know that she wanted to strangle the Mona Lisa tablecloth that seemed to be glaring at her, as if knowing what surprise had met her.

August's eyes met hers and for the first time, Grace couldn't read them. Or maybe she didn't want to. She held her breath. She wanted to faint.


	3. The Art of Being 'Nice'

Here's the next chapter! By the way, there's a statement at the bottom that may confuse some. It's in reference to a character in Chekhov's "On Love" that he told Grace to read. It will be explained further in the future.

xXx

Grace's world slowly spun back into place, and her eyes seemed to find their focus. Her mind slowed and she was able to finally utter a fully constructed sentence. Unfortunately, August had the same idea, and at the same exact time they both uttered, "What are you doing here?"

Celia gazed at the two in a state of complete confusion. For a moment, Grace caught herself thinking that the blonde suddenly didn't look so perfect. Pulling her eyes away from Celia, Grace forced herself to look up at August. He hadn't changed much. He was older, naturally, but he aged gracefully, making him look more distinguished and wiser. Grace thought time suited him well.

She caught him staring at her, and she felt guilty for feeling pleased with herself. Of course he would be staring at her. She was, after all, standing in his kitchen after all these years, completely unable to utter an explanation for why. In fact, she couldn't quite remember why she was here. Hadn't it been an important matter?

"Honey, um…Grace was interested in renting our house…" Celia began, trying to regain her composure. "I…I take it you two know each other?"

Suddenly, Grace felt angry. Sure, what they had was buried in the past, but didn't it mean enough for him to at least tell his new girlfriend? Had her name never come up? Did she really mean that little to him?

"Yeah," August breathed, as if trying to awake from an eerie dream. "Grace was a former student of mine. She's was very talented. I'm certain that talent has grown?"

It was more a statement than a question, and Grace blushed nevertheless. She smiled sheepishly, suddenly feeling like a four year old playing in an "adults only" room.

"Yeah, he was my English teacher," Grace explained. "He also directed our school play my junior year." Her eyes remained firmly on Celia's. "He was great," she added, suddenly wishing she had kept her mouth shut.

But Celia didn't seem to notice the awkward ways in which Grace's eyes shifted nervously, or the way August kept clearing his throat and fidgeting nervously. Grace was thankful for her lack of observation.

"Well," Celia began. "This is perfect actually. I mean, I have a meeting I should really get to, and since you two know each other, I don't feel guilty leaving you alone with him Grace. So, August, honey, why don't you show Grace around? I mean, I know you were her teacher before, but it's not as if she's ever seen your place." Grace decided not to protest this point; besides, August looked as if he would murder her if she let this piece of information slip. "Is that all right?" Celia asked, leaving no real room for argument.

"Great," August grinned, and Grace could see how forced his smile was. She wanted to leave. She didn't want to stay anywhere she wasn't welcome. And, August wasn't looking too thrilled to see her.

"Perfect," Celia said, clasping a small white purse. "I'll be back soon," she insisted, kissing August softly on the cheek. Grace tried to look away, but couldn't make her eyes move. They were glued to the couple. Finally, Celia waved and beamed once more at Grace, then walked out of the back door.

And then, the silence came.

Grace blinked.

August exhaled.

Grace wanted to cry. She would have thought that two adults such as themselves could engage in a civil conversation, but it seemed as if no words would ever emit from their mouths. Grace bit her tongue, thinking of something, _anything_ to say. But, every time an idea popped into her head, she pictured the blonde laughing or smiling and she suddenly forgot it. Damn her life! First Jessie, now this!

"So…" Grace began at last, choosing the only topic that her mind seemed to focus on. "Celia seems nice."

August nodded. "Very," he said.

Grace cocked an eyebrow. He seemed to agree with her too quickly.

"I mean, of _course_ she's nice," August began. "She's nice, great, wonderful. Why else would I be with her?"

Grace nodded. "Very bland adjectives for a man of your nature," she teased.

August grinned and Grace felt him relax a bit. "It's amazing to see you Grace."

Grace couldn't stop her grin. "Now that's more like the August I know," she replied.

August shook his head. "Look at you," he began. "I can't believe it's really you, Grace. I mean, you've changed so much…and yet so little. You're definitely not a girl anymore…"

Grace interrupted, "Was I ever?"

August laughed. "I guess not."

Grace smiled.

August grinned back and led Grace into the living room. Grace's eyes scanned the room eagerly. It was now wallpapered with an ugly floral print that made Grace scrunch her nose. The sofas were now lined with coral sofa covers, a shade of pink that Grace couldn't quite decide her opinion of. And, pictures now lined the walls, mantle, and newly placed shelves of Celia and August. Celia and August…Grace hated the way their names flowed together. It was almost too perfect.

Following August's lead, Grace sat down, a fair distance between the two. She looked around him, grinning inwardly as she noted his books still lined the many bookshelves.

"So…how long have you known Celia?" she asked, unable to push the woman from her thoughts.

August seemed uncomfortable. "Well, about four years. But we only started dating a year ago."

Grace nodded. "That's…nice."

August sighed. "Look Grace, it's not as if I was never going to move on with my life. I hadn't seen or heard from you in two years…you moved away! I had to move on. Besides…we never really had anything real going on with us…it was one kiss. You couldn't expect me to wait around…I had to move on with my life. You have to understand that!"

Grace paused. "I do," she said at last. "I completely understand you getting into another relationship…it's what I did."

It was then that August noticed the fleck of diamond cascading in the light, and his eyes suddenly sunk down to her left hand. "You're engaged?" he asked, his voice sounding suddenly weak and quiet.

Grace nodded. "He's an actor."

August nodded. "She's an artist."

Grace kept nodding until she felt her head would roll off. "I love him," she said. She didn't know why she said it. It wasn't as if she needed August's verification. She _did_ love him. She knew that.

"I know," he said. "You wouldn't have given him the time of day if not."

Grace bit her lip. "But…but sometimes I think…"

"Shh…" August cut her off, not allowing himself to hear what she was about to say. "Sometimes you think too much Gracie."

Grace opened her mouth to protest, but found no words would form. She shut it dumbly, eyes wide open in surprise. He had called her "Gracie". She hated when her mom called her "Gracie". But she liked it when he said it. The way the name just rolled off of his tongue. "Gracie". She wished she could melt.

"So," August continued. "This actor…where…where did you meet him?"

"In New York," Grace started. "I work for the New Yorker as a book critic. And, my friend Sharon reviews all the plays. And, well, she dragged me to 'The Producers' one day, and Marcus, my fiancé, he was playing the lead character. Afterwards, she interviewed him, and we exchanged phone numbers. Now I'm back here planning my wedding. We're supposed to get married in June, hence needing a house for six months." She shrugged. "It's not much of a story."

August's eyes twinkled. "Everything can be an amazing story; you just have to know how to tell it with passion."

Grace was horrified at the prospect of August thinking Marcus didn't mean as much to her as she let on, but was interrupted by August's hearty laugh.

"Oh Grace, stop thinking so much," he said. "I was teasing."

Grace smiled a bit too hardly. It wasn't very funny to her.

"So, the New Yorker?" August questioned. "Big paper."

"Yeah, well, I'm only a critic," Grace said. "Nothing much…"

August shook his head. "You always were fascinated with big names. 'The New Yorker…and you only a book critic!"

Grace grew angry. "What's that supposed to mean?"

August shrugged. "I guess I just always thought you could do better than that. You should be writing your own work, not judging others'."

"Well, I _did_!" she insisted. "I wrote a book of short stories, prose, and poems."

"Really?" August asked. Grace felt hurt. She would have expected that he read it.

"Yes, I did," Grace continued. "And…and I plan to write loads more! And, the New Yorker job…well…it's only…"

August sighed. "Gracie, I'm sorry," he said. "I didn't mean to demean you. I think what you're doing is excellent, far better than the ordinary writing student. I just…I always wanted the world for you, and well…I just want you to get everything you deserve. I always judged you harder than anyone else…I guess that was because I knew you could handle it, and you deserved only the best. Forgive me?"

Grace pouted. "If I say yes, I let you win. If I say no, then I've insulted you."

August laughed. "Say yes Gracie?"

"Oh, all right," Grace grinned. "Forgiven. But next time you bring up _my_ work ethic, I'm going to counter you with yours!"

"I look forward to it," August said.

The room became still again, and suddenly Grace realized just how close her body was to August's. She was closer than she deemed acceptable, but to pull away would mean risking embarrassment on both their ends. She decided not to move, but still remained uneasy.

"So, this house…I mean…why are you leaving?"

August's eyes grew dark and Grace instantly regretted the question. "Celia needs 'inspiration' for her next 'masterpiece'!" August remarked in a sarcastic tone Grace was not accustomed to hearing from him.

"Oh…and that's…bad?" Grace questioned warily.

"Well," August began. "I suppose it's a matter of opinion. I mean, she always goes out looking for inspiration, winds up making a cheap copy of someone else's work and makes no money. It's depressing really. She loves artwork and is so passionate about it, and I'm afraid to tell her she's no good with creating it. An art professor? She'd be great! She could even work in a museum. But every time I make one of these little suggestions, she laughs them off, saying she'd much rather paint. If only she _could_ paint."

Grace smiled. "That's a tough situation. I don't know what I would do if I was you." August nodded and rolled his eyes in a true juvenile fashion. It made Grace giggle. "August…if you don't mind me asking…where did you meet Celia? I mean…she just doesn't seem like your…"

"Type?" August questioned. Graced nodded her head. "Well, I guess she isn't. Or, wasn't. Whichever. She took me completely by surprise. She was a part of this drama group I spoke at one day. She was in charge of set design. We just met and she invited me out for coffee. I kept declining, but eventually figured I might as well. And, well, that's that."

"Oh," Grace said. "Um…she doesn't…I mean, you never told her about…you know…umm…"

"No, Grace, she doesn't know about us," August said. "And I don't intend to tell her. What happened between us isn't something I'm proud of. I don't go around bragging about it. You were a student and I was a teacher. Perhaps had we been under different circumstances…maybe. But we weren't. I see no need for Celia to hear about that part of my past."

Grace was hurt by his words. "Shouldn't she know though? I know I'd want to. And, shouldn't a relationship be based on honesty and openness?"

August shook his head. "You're still so naïve Grace. I can't tell her. Do you know what she'd think of me? She'd never understand."

"Maybe she could if only…"

"Grace, you were seventeen!" August shouted, rising to his feet. "I was thirty one! She will never understand that Grace, never! No one will! No one would have accepted us, just as she will never accept me if I tell her that. She won't understand our relationship at all. She'll think I'm some creepy guy who goes for innocent young girls and… God, Grace, she won't know how different you were. She'd never see that it was impossible not to…"

Grace's eyes grew wide. "Not to what?"

August shook his head.

"You can at least finish your sentence!" she shouted. "After tearing me down and claiming how I was some stupid mistake, I think you can at least manage to finish your damn sentence!"

August remained silent.

"Oh, come on!" she yelled. "I don't deserve this! I deserve to hear the truth! What were you going to say? Huh? Come on, you can tell me! I'm the big mistake that you can go back to pretending never existed as soon as Celia comes…"

"It was impossible not to fall in love with you, okay?!" August remarked loudly, slightly agitated. "Are you happy?"

Grace couldn't move. She wanted to hurt him the way he was hurting her. She wanted to just slap him or punch him or something. But she couldn't move. She was stuck to the sickening coral couch. Yes, she had decided that coral was a disgusting color that reminded her of undercooked food. Eye tearing from the gruesome sofa, Grace stared up at August and asked plainly, "Do you still?"

August sighed. "Grace, I've moved on with my life and so have you. Anything I may have felt for you in the past…"

"Should stay there," Grace remarked. "I get it. Look, I just came here to discuss renting this place…but now…."

"No, Grace, you _should_ rent it," August said, staring down at her. "It will be perfect. I'm leaving my books here, so you can use them to help you write if you'd like. And, you only need six months, and so do we. It works out great for both of us. Come on Grace, you're a rational person. Don't let me cloud your thinking."

"Not even a man with your gusto could ever hope to cloud _my_ thinking," Grace snapped. How dare he think so highly of himself!

August looked amused. Grace wished she could stab him.

"All right," she agreed at last. "But I don't need a tour or anything." Grace rose to her feet. "When are you moving out?"

"Two days," August said. "We're leaving the place fully furnished for you, with the exception of the bed."

"Fine by me," Grace said. "I couldn't sleep in someone else's bed just thinking…" Grace smartly trailed off, eyes skimming the ground.

"So, does two 'o clock Friday sound good to you?" August asked. "We'll have keys made by then."

"Sounds great," Grace said, sounding anything but cheerful. She watched August walk into the kitchen, and she was relieved by the thought of being able to leave. She turned to exit the living room, but something oddly familiar caught her eyes. She spotted upon August's disheveled bookshelf a book placed in a plastic display case. Her heart leapt. It was her book. He proudly displayed _her_ book!

She hurried into the kitchen eager to find out August's opinion of her book, but stopped herself from speaking. Didn't he tell her he'd never heard that she wrote a book? He had pretended not to know. Why would he do such a thing? He knew her writing meant more to her than the entire world. And yet, he showed no sympathy when stating that he had never come across her book. She would never understand such a complicated man.

"Grace?"

Grace snapped back into her body. "Yes?"

"Are you all right?" August's eyes roamed her face as if searching for the reason for her sudden disappearance into her own thoughts.

"Perfect." Grace grinned. She had adopted Celia's word. She made her way to the door and pulled it open.

"Good…"

"No!" Grace said, a little too quickly. She spun around and August eyed her curiously. Grace merely shrugged. "It's just this…thing I have. If no one says goodbye to me, then well, it's not really the end, is it? Because, you know, every ending has to have a proper goodbye."

August stared at her in pure amusement. "You're quite a character Grace Manning."

Grace smiled. "Friday," she nodded.

"Friday," August repeated.

xXx

"Last one Grace!" Rick called out, loading the last box into the back of Grace's jeep. She hadn't brought much with her, so she was grateful Celia was leaving the house furnished for her, even if the décor made her feel queasy.

"Thanks Rick," Grace said, watching as he checked all of her luggage, making sure it was securely inside the vehicle. Exhausted from packing, Grace stumbled back inside, collapsing onto one of her mother's warm, plush sofas. She was grateful that Zoe and Maddie were at school, and even gladder that Jessie was at a meeting with her boss Tad. She couldn't deal with siblings right now. Her mother was holding up quite well, and had spent most of the morning helping Grace pack, without muttering her opinion of Grace's life. Rick was the biggest help of all, being strangely supportive and sympathetic of her decision to move out.

She hadn't told her parents that she was moving into August's old house. She couldn't bring herself to even mention his name around her mom. She was sure if she did that all of Rick's support would quickly disappear.

"Hey Grace," Rick began, coming into the living room.

"Yeah?" Grace asked, looking up.

"Have you talked to Jake yet?"

Grace bit her lip. She knew she would have to talk to her dad at some point, but she really wasn't looking forward to that moment. He had been so angry when she left….

"Well, now's as good a time as ever," Rick continued. Grace looked confused. "He just pulled up to talk to Lily about Zoe."

Grace's jaw dropped and she struggled to stand upright. Pushing past Rick, she slowly made her way into the kitchen and through the back door. She saw a black Taurus parked along the curb and watched as the man she once called "dad" walked up the driveway. She wondered if he noticed her yet. She decided not to waste time.

"Dad!" she called.

Jake looked up from walking, wondering why Zoe was home from school so early. Maybe she was sick? He neared the house and began to notice that the girl in front of him was not in fact Zoe, but rather his oldest daughter, Grace. He squinted in the bright sunlight, praying it was really her. "Grace?" he questioned.

"Daddy," Grace called, suddenly feeling like a little girl. Jake hurried towards her and engulfed her in a warm embrace. Grace hugged him back, smiling, forgetting the power of her father's love.

They pulled apart, and Grace wiped a spare tear from her eye, still grinning. "Dad, I'm sorry…"

Jake shook his head. "Don't worry about it," he insisted. "That's in the past. We can't change it now can we?" Grace shook her head. "So what are you doing back Grace?"

Grace sighed. "Okay…Daddy, don't be mad but…"

"Uh oh," Jake groaned.

"Well, I've been in New York, as you know, and well, I met this guy…and well, we've been together for a year now, and well, we're getting married in six months…"

The expression on Jake's face caused Grace to cease from finishing her sentence. "Dad, breathe!"

Jake searched for words. "I'm…trying…to." His expression softened a bit. "Is he a good man?"

Grace nodded. "You'll love him," she insisted. "He's a performer on Broadway, but don't worry, he also teaches theater classes, so he has a profession to fall back on. He's actually going to be helping Jessie with her theater for awhile."

Jake nodded and smiled. "That's great Grace. This…it's just a lot to take in."

"I know," Grace nodded understandingly. "He should be here any minute if you want to meet him. He's flying in from Philadelphia."

Jake nodded. "Okay Grace, I'll wait for him to get here."

Grace smiled and hugged her dad again. "Thanks…you can go talk to mom now," she insisted.

Jake grinned and walked inside the house. Grace sat down upon the porch step, breathing in a sigh of relief. That was easier than she thought it would be. She was glad her dad was able to let go of his grudge against her. It showed how much he still loved her.

Grace heard a car stop suddenly, and looking up, she saw a taxi pull over in front of her house. A tall man with dark hair stepped out of the car, two suitcases in his hands. Grace grinned broadly and rushed over to him.

"Marcus!" she called, kissing him lightly on the lips. "How was your flight?"

"Long," he joked, kissing her forehead. "How have you been?"

"Well," Grace began, "I found a place for us to stay. Oh, and I have a slight confession to make. Remember my stepsister Jessie? Well, she works at a teenage theater house and I kind of…"

"Offered my assistance?" Marcus asked.

Grace laughed. "Yeah. I mean, I figured, you'd need something to keep you occupied and…"

Marcus smiled. "Stop worrying so much Grace, I'd love to do it."

"I figured as much," Grace nodded. "Okay, now here comes the tough part, meeting my family. My _dad_'s even inside."

"I know," Marcus said.

"You know?" Grace asked, baffled. "How do you know?"

"Well, I didn't know he was inside," Marcus explained, "but I did know you two would patch things up."

"Oh," Grace said smiling. "Well then, come on."

The two walked arm and arm inside the house where they were greeted by Lily, Rick, and Jake. Grace was impressed with how charming Marcus was and was glad to see everyone got along very well. It was better than she could have ever expected it to be. But, one thirty rolled around, and Grace decided it was time that she and Marcus met August and Celia about the house. They walked outside and hopped into Grace's jeep, Jake, Rick, and Lily following behind them. They insisted to help her move her things in. Grace was very wary about the idea. What would they say when they saw August?

They traveled mostly in silence; it was a sound they were both accustomed to when with each other. They were both fairly quiet people and silence wasn't awkward for either of them. It gave them time to collect their own thoughts.

"Here it is," Grace said at last, pulling over to the side of the road. She saw Celia outside in a tight tank top and cut off shorts, placing small boxes into a U-Haul truck. He winced, waiting to see August.

Getting out of the car, Grace waved to Celia. She beamed and waved back once before returning to her boxes. Grace spun around to her dad's car and opened the door. "Why don't you guys wait out here until they've left, and then…"

"Oh nonsense Grace," Lily said, stepping out of the backseat of the car. "We can help them if they need it."

"Yeah, come on Grace," Marcus said, walking up the driveway. "I can't wait to see the place."

I can, Grace thought following bitterly behind.

"Grace, you guys can go on inside!" Celia called. "Aug…"

"OKAY!" Grace shouted, not wanting anyone, especially her father to hear the name 'August'. Grace rushed in front of everyone, darting to the back door. Not paying attention to the surprised looks on everyone's faces, Grace pushed herself inside, thirty seconds before everyone else, and locked the door.

"August!" she hissed, rushing into the living room. "August!"

"Grace?" his voice asked. "In the bedroom."

Grace momentarily forgot the crowd of people waiting outside for her. She felt like she was seventeen again, as she pushed open August's bedroom door.

"What's wrong?" August asked, noting the strange expression on her face.

"Nothing," Grace said sheepishly. "It's just…I was thinking…. Oh God, I was pathetic back then."

August laughed. "Not possible," he insisted. "What were you thinking about?"

Grace exhaled slowly. "The night we saw Rashomon," Grace replied. "Well, before we saw it anyway. I can't believe I actually asked to see where you slept! Didn't you want to kill me?"

August grinned. "Killing was definitely not on the list of things I wished I could do to you that night."

Grace bit her lip. "Oh," she said grinning, as they both broke into a fit of hysterics. "Oh God," Grace began. "August, my parents are here!"

August smiled. "You're not in high school anymore Grace. And, there's nothing going on between us. It'll be fine."

Grace sighed and shook her head. "You don't know my dad…I only today saw him again, for the first time in five years."

August's brow furrowed. "Not even when you visited from college?"

"Oh, I never mentioned…I, I never visited from college. I was, well, very angry still when we moved to Sydney, and once Columbia accepted me, I was gone. I refused to speak to my family for years." Her face fell. "I know it was stupid and stubborn of me, but they never got over the whole "thing" that happened with me and you, and I never forgave them for splitting us up. My visit home this month was my first time seeing them in five years. And, my dad took it the hardest…and seeing you…."

August nodded. "Grace, there's no way out of this one. He's going to have to see me. You're moving into my house."

Grace sighed and smiled. "I guess so. Uh oh…"

"What is it Grace?" August asked.

Grace's face broke into a guilty grin. "I locked them out of the house!" she announced.

August laughed heartily, and followed her into the kitchen, where they could hear someone knocking. "After you," he insisted.

Grace sighed. "Gee thanks," she teased, pulling open the door.

"Grace, why on earth…" Lily began. She stopped once Grace fully opened the door, spotting Grace's old English teacher, Mr. Dimitri next to her. He smiled graciously.

Grace scanned the porch. "Where are the others?"

"Helping Celia," Lily said coolly. "Grace…"

"What?" Grace asked. "I needed a house. My agent found this one. Ironic coincidence, yes. Big deal? No!"

Lily opened her mouth to protest, but seemed to find nothing to argue. "That's fine Grace, but Jake's not going to like this."

Grace shrugged. "He'll have to grow up and get over it. It's not like anything's going on between us," she said, looking to August. He nodded in agreement.

Lily nodded. "I'll keep him outside for as long as I can."

Grace mouthed "thank you" to her mother as she disappeared outside. The next second, Celia appeared at the door, followed by Marcus.

"Grace, your fiancée is so funny!" Celia exclaimed.

"Thanks," Grace said, not quite over the tension of her father being just outside. "Oh, um, August, this is Marcus, Marcus, August."

The two exchanged greetings and Grace was oddly pleased to see August caught off guard by the introduction of her fiancé.

"I'm just going to help Celia with the last boxes," Marcus explained, as he bent over to help Celia. The two disappeared moments later, and Grace caught August with an odd expression on his face.

"So, that's the actor?" August asked flatly.

"Yes, that's Marcus," Grace said proudly.

August raised his eyebrows and nodded. "He seems nice," he said, disappearing into the living room.

"He _is_ nice," Grace insisted, her voice echoing through the house.

August returned a moment later. "Then, I take it you like nice."

Grace's mind was a mixture of confusion. "What? Of course I like nice people. Who wouldn't?" She grew angry. Was he insulting her judgment? "Besides," she said coyly. "Celia's _extremely_ nice. I'd say even nicer than Marcus."

August paused, defeated. "Keys are on the table, if you need anything, our numbers are on a sheet on the fridge. Our address is also…"

"August, _stop_!" Grace insisted. "Don't be angry! I don't even know why you're angry! What happened?"

August sighed. "Feelings are fickle things Grace. They can change in an instant without anyone knowing as much. Ignore me and be happy."

"Ignore you? Ignore what?" Grace asked.

"Nothing," August smiled. "I should leave now."

Grace nodded, hugging her old friend. "No matter what happens August, it was really great seeing you."

August pulled away from her embrace, much to close to her.

"You shouldn't stand so close," Grace breathed.

"Why?" August asked, his voice barely over a whisper.

"Because suddenly I forget all of the reasons why I shouldn't be with you," Grace answered honestly.

August studied her face, his eyes penetrating hers.

"Don't," she said softly.

But it was too late. August had already leaned in to kiss Grace, and his lips softly collided with her own, leaving her in a state of disarray and bliss. She pulled away quickly.

"August," she said, not sure what she wanted to tell him. She noticed a small book under his arm. "My book," she decided.

August nodded. "I lied. I read it, every word of it. Even the dedication."

Grace sucked in a breath of air. "To the man with the most burdened heart," she remembered. August smiled, kissing her forehead. "August…" she began. "August, I'm engaged."

"Yes," August agreed. "Yes, you are." He turned and opened the door. He turned around one last time. "And Anna Alekseevna was married."

xXx

To be continued soon.


	4. Hey There, Lonely Eyes

            Grace slumped down in the awkward auditorium chair, waiting impatiently for Zoe to appear on stage. Marcus and Jessie had decided to direct the show "Once Upon a Mattress" and Zoe was trying out for Princess Winifred, the lead role. It took a lot of Marcus's tips and Grace's nagging to get her to even consider trying out, but Grace had an odd feeling she'd be fine once she stepped in front of the curtain. Zoe was a natural on stage.

            Scanning the empty room, Grace looked back to the middle section of the theater where Marcus, Jessie, and the infamous Ted sat, all three looking more serious than Grace thought should be allowed. She had tried to sit next to them, but Ted scowled at her, Jessie's face flushed, and Marcus suggested that she sit up front and let the professionals work. Grace was still furious. How professional did you have to be to watch people? Besides, if Jessie could handle it, she was definitely more than qualified.

            About fifteen minutes later, Zoe was called on stage, asked for her name, age, and song, and then the music began. Grace couldn't help but grin as Zoe erupted into song. She had a strong, sturdy voice filled with passion and vigor. She could even give Jessie a run for her talent. Grace wanted to clap as she ended, but knew that would make Zoe even more embarrassed than she already was.

            Still serious as ever, Ted told Zoe that she'd get a phone call over the weekend, and would then know what part she got. Figuring there was not much more she could do but give Zoe a ride home, Grace stood up and headed towards Marcus. She crept quietly and waited for the next song to end before speaking to him.

            "Marc?" she said, catching his attention. He didn't turn to her. "Listen, I think I'm going to go…"

            "Grace, I'm a little busy," Marcus said quickly. "I'll see you at home."

            Grace was a bit stung by Marcus's harsh words, but shrugged them off. She knew how touchy he got whenever his work was involved. Besides, wasn't she the same way when she came to her writing? But still, she couldn't help but feel that he could have at least been a bit friendlier about his word choice.

            Not daring to protest, Grace turned on her heel and left. She found Zoe slouching in the hallway, her long silhouette trembling slightly.

            "Hey, Zo, are you all right?" Grace asked, concerned.

            Zoe nodded, inhaling deeply. "I'm just still shaky about my performance. I won't fully recover until I know how I did. I bet I don't make it."

            Grace slapped her upside the head. "Shut up, you just want me to tell you how good you did," she remarked. Her light tone caused Zoe to ease up a bit.

            "Well," Zoe teased, "It wouldn't hurt."

            Grace rolled her eyes and fished her keys out of her purse. "Well, stop trembling or I can't let you drive," she remarked, tossing her keys at Zoe.

            "Really?" Zoe asked, wide-eyed. "Oh thank you _so _much!" she exclaimed. "Can I stop to get some ice cream? It will only take a second."

            Grace nodded, not thinking much of Zoe's request. Zoe did have a huge appetite after all. "Let's just get going," she said.

            The two hopped into Grace's jeep, and Zoe took off down the street. Grace slipped in one of her old Goo Goo Dolls CDs and was pleased when Zoe didn't protest. She even sang along to a few of the tracks. Fifteen minutes later they had reached "SnoCaps", an independently owned ice cream parlor that was known for their large portions.

            "Do you want anything?" Zoe asked jumping out of the car.

            Grace shook her head and turned up the volume. Her favorite song "Sympathy" was on. She tapped her fingers on her leg to the beat, not caring how loud she sang. As the song ended, she began to wonder what was taking Zoe so long. It was nearly six o' clock and she had to get home to finish this week's column. It was due tomorrow by two. Peering through the glass windows, Grace caught a glimpse of Zoe leaning casually against the glass wall, talking to a tall teenager with spiky black hair and a nose ring. Grace also thought she saw a tattoo on his right arm. She rolled her eyes. So that was why Zoe insisted on stopping here; a boy was involved.

            She watched for five more minutes as Zoe flirted, laughing much more than usual, and flipping hair every which way. She scowled. Even with her brown locks, she had inherited Jessie's hair flipping art style. She wondered if it could be learned, than thought better of it. She wasn't the hair flipping type anyway.

            Finally Zoe came back out, two chocolate milkshakes in her hand. Grace was going to point out the fact that they could have gotten milkshakes cheaper and faster at McDonalds, but thought better of it. This visit had obviously perked Zoe up.

            "Sorry I took so long," Zoe said, placing the cups in the cup holders. "Long line."

            "Yeah, right," Grace nodded, noting the whole one other car in the parking lot. She turned to Zoe. "So what's his name?"

            "Oh, him?" Zoe asked, trying to play innocent. Grace laughed. Like Jessie, Zoe was a terrible liar. "That's Chris. Just some guy from school. No one special. I don't even like him."

            Grace shook her head. "You completely like him and you don't think mom would approve," she said.

            Zoe pulled out of the parking lot. "Maybe. But come on Grace, what would you know about that."

            "Hmm…" Grace began. "Oh, you know what, you're right; falling for my thirty year old teacher, now that was highly commendable."

            Zoe burst out in a fit of giggles. "Oh…right. I almost forgot. It almost makes me see some hope for dating Chris."

            "Gee, thanks," Grace muttered sarcastically. "But, honestly, mom's so distracted with Maddie, and Rick's never home. I'm sure they won't mind at all."

            Zoe nodded. "That's true. I guess I'm just nervous about the prospect of dating." Her voice lowered. "Would you believe I never even kissed a guy before? Not even once! I'm too shy. I hate it."

            Now Grace could relate to Zoe immensely. "Zo, trust me. It's overrated. I know, you're thinking that I'm only saying that because I'm practically married and kissing guys doesn't scare me anymore, but honestly it's nothing to worry about. You'll be fine."

            Zoe grew silent. "I guess," she added. "Look, just don't mention anything to Jessie. She'll tease me forever."

            Grace rolled her eyes. "Promise," she said. She eyed the other milkshake. "Who's that for?"

            "Mom," Zoe said. "Chris wants to go out…tonight. I figured I'd bribe her a bit."

            Grace laughed. "Good luck with that. Out of the blue kindness is the only thing mom will always remain suspicious of."

            Zoe grinned. "Yeah, but it can't hurt."

            Grace just shook her head, wondering what happened to the straggly haired girl with the big mouth and annoying tantrums.

XxX      

            An hour later, Grace arrived at August's house (she couldn't bring herself to call it "home") and hit the message button on her phone. She listened as she opened the refrigerator and pulled out a pitcher of tea.

            The first message was from Lily, telling her to stop by anytime she needed to eat, since she knew Grace couldn't cook very well. She went on about chats she had with neighbors and some other useless gossip. Grace couldn't help but laugh at her mother, wondering if she now thought Grace belonged to the old ladies club, where the married wives chatted about flowers and shopping and groceries. She shuddered. Hopefully her mother would get the point.

            The next message was from Celia in her normal high pitched, cheery voice, thanking her again for taking the house, leaving her number with Grace, _again_, and talking about all the fun she was having in Boston. Grace found it odd that she never mentioned August, but she chased the thought away. August was none of her business anymore, she reminded herself.

            The last message was from Marcus, claiming he had to stay late at 'the Iliad' to help Jessie and Ted go over some of the performances for that day. He told her not to wait up for him and to have dinner without him. He also mentioned meeting up with Johnny, an old theater friend of his at a local bar. Grace rolled her eyes. Great, she was engaged and already alone.

            She deleted all the messages and crept into the bedroom. She pulled off her baggy sweater and loose jeans and disappeared into the closet. She slid on a thin, tight tan knit sweater with loose sleeves, and stepped into a pair of form-fitting jeans. She threw on a pair of black leather boots and disappeared into the living room. Grabbing her faded brown leather jacket and white knitted scarf, she grabbed her laptop left the house, making her way to her jeep. She couldn't work at this house. It was too weird.

            Pressing on the gas pedal, Grace drove to Borders and set up her office on one of their spacious tables in the lounge. She ordered a double espresso and a piece of chocolate chip cheesecake and sat down and began writing. She was writing a column about the lack of good stylistics and writing techniques in recent books. She used many references from the popular "the Da Vinci Code", a good story and easy read, but in honesty, not an impressive piece of literature. She also added in comments about the uprising of "Chicklets" a nickname she and Sharon had come up with to describe the ever-so-popular "Sex and the City" knock-off books. She compared writing to music, stating that in music there are different genres, each with its own styles, but in general all forms of music have a key element, passion and talent. Yet recent books, she noticed, were lacking in passion and talent, and just merely about marketing and profit. The concept disgusted her.

            "Imposter Literature?" a voice questioned.

            Grace hit the control and "s" keys, then slammed her laptop shut. She knew who was speaking to her. "I'm working on the name," she defended.

            "I never said I didn't like it," the man said, sliding into the seat next to her.

            "What are you still doing here?" Grace asked. "I thought you were going with Celia."

            August grinned wearily. "I will be in three months. I visit on weekends for now. But, I still have to make a living. I'm teaching a college lit class here and I also was hired to play piano and supervise a small theater production. My friend Ted asked me to help out."

            Ted was not a common name, Grace was aware. She didn't want to ask, because she already knew the answer, but she couldn't seem to stop the words from coming out. "The production of 'Once Upon a Mattress'?" she questioned. "At 'The Iliad'? Director Ted Moss and Jessie…"

            "Yes, yes," August nodded. "_Your_ Jessie."

            Grace felt odd. She had never once in her life thought of Jessie as _hers_. "I didn't know you played piano," was all she could utter.

            "Full of surprises, I guess," August said. "You shouldn't be drinking coffee this late; especially coffee as strong as that."

            Grace shrugged. "I need to keep myself awake somehow."

            "I read your article," August said at last.

            "What?" Grace asked, feeling violated. Her writing was personal! Well, at least until it was pasted, printed, and distributed to about twenty million people worldwide. But that wasn't the point!

            "Your article," August said plainly. "No need to be offended. I just glimpsed over your shoulder for a second, and I couldn't help myself. You were so engrossed in it that you didn't even notice."

            "You shouldn't do that," Grace warned. Still she was curious…. "What did you think?"

            "Well, I…"

            "No, wait, stop," Grace commanded. "I don't want to know what you think. Your standards are impossible to live up to."

            "Is that so?" August asked, amused.

            "Yes!" Grace blurted out. "I always feel like I'm going to disappoint you or something."

            "Grace," August said, a bit too seriously. "You could _never_ disappoint me."

            Grace looked away from him, unsure of what to say. "Celia called," she began. "She said she was having a great time."

            "She always does," August said dully. He paused. "Where's the actor."

            "Working," she said. "At the theater. Jessie's theater. They asked him to help," she said proudly.

            "So soon?" August asked. "He only just got here last week."

            "Well, he takes his work seriously," Grace said, hoping that answer would satisfy him.

            It didn't. "He should take you seriously," August said sincerely.

            Grace met his stare. "You should take Celia seriously," she challenged.

            August stared at her for the longest time before breaking into a wide grin. "Touché," he remarked.  

            Grace took a sip of her espresso, ignoring August's laughter. She didn't know quite how to react to him anymore.

            "So why aren't you writing at home?" August asked.

            "Oh, at your house?" Grace asked. "Well, I…I don't know. I needed to eat, I guess."

            "So you chose cheesecake," August noted. "Very grand choice, Grace, really I'm surprised."

            Grace's mood lightened and she allowed herself to laugh. "Well, I'm not the greatest cook."

            August shook his head. "Pity. Well, I'll make you a deal. I'll make you my famous chicken franchese and you promise not to tell Celia I cook."

            "August…" Grace studied him. She didn't want him to think anything was going to happen between them. She wasn't seventeen anymore. But, she _was_ hungry. And he looked sincere enough…. "Okay," she agreed, clutching her laptop. She wasn't in the mood to return to an empty house anyway. Plus, Marcus had late dinner plans, and knowing him, he'd be out until five in the morning. "But August," she began.

            "Yeah?" August asked, following her outside.

            "This chicken better be good," she teased. "I'm _starving_."

            He laughed good naturedly and disappeared into his own Ford Taurus.

            Grace quickly jumped into her Jeep, too nervous to think straight. She could only barely focus on starting the engine and making her way to August's…_her_…house.

            She pulled into the long driveway and watched as August parked in front of the house. She quickly opened the door, rushing inside before August had even completed the walk up the driveway. She rushed around the living room, picking up small piles of her clothes and shoving them into the bedroom. She tried to organize a cluster of books she had dropped around the kitchen, but wound up just scattering them even more across the kitchen table. She had no time to worry about any other seemingly invisible mess because just then August creaked open the kitchen door.

            "Trying to get rid of me?" he joked.

            "No," Grace said smiling. "The house was just still a little messy from moving in and…"

            August shook his head. "It won't bother me at all." He headed over to the freezer and pulled out a package of chicken.

            "Do you want me to help?" Grace asked.

            "No, I've got it under control," August said, gathering various ingredients. Grace sat down at the kitchen table, skimming the different titles. She found a worn copy of "As You Like It" by Shakespeare and began thinking back to the play August had directed. She had won the part of Rosaline and Jessie, the part of Phoebe. That was the time that first brought her close to August.

            Snapping out of her daydream, she watched as August loaded a small tray of chicken into the oven. She grinned as he sat down across from her.

            "So do you normally serve your husband books for dinner?" August joked.

            "He's not my husband," Grace insisted, then realizing the reality of what she had just said, added, "yet."

            August smiled knowingly, peeling his eyes off of her and scanning the books on the table. "Wide variety," he noted.

            "Yeah…I need to get another bookshelf…or two," she added laughing. She stood up, grabbing a heap of books. "I should clear these off so we can eat."

            August got to his feet and grabbed the remaining pile. "I'll help." It was more of a command than an offer and Grace knew better than to refuse.

            The two headed to the bedroom, where Grace began setting down the books on a small round table by the window. August followed her lead. One book stumbled to the carpet, and both leaned over to get it. Grace's hand brushed him as she clasped the book, his strong hand clutching the other end. Their eyes met and they immediately both looked down, suddenly noticing the faded cover with gold writing. "Chekhov" was all that was written on it. She let go off it as August opened the front cover and read the inscription quietly. "For the girl with the loneliest eyes, love always…." His voice trailed off as his eyes met Grace's.

            "You kept this?" he asked.

            Grace nodded. "Of course I did!" she exclaimed too quickly. "Well, I mean, it's a great piece of literature."

            August nodded. "That it is," he said quietly. He turned for the door. "Look, Grace, I should go."

            "_What_?"

            "Yeah, I mean, the chicken will be done in ten more minutes, just pull it out and then…"

            "No!" Grace remarked. "August, stop!"

            "I'm _trying _to," he hissed, still not facing her.

            Grace suddenly felt an overwhelming emotion of compassion for the man. "Why are you doing this?" she breathed, her voice barely under a whisper. She walked around August to face him.

            "I'm not doing anything," he insisted.

            "_Exactly_," Grace whispered peering up at him.

            August opened his mouth to utter something, but he was saved the trouble by the oven timer buzzing. "The chicken's done," he insisted.

            Grace nodded and followed him out into the kitchen. He opened the oven door and pulled out the tray of chicken. Immediately Grace could smell the sweetness of the sauce coating the chicken.

            "Smell's good," Grace said encouragingly.

            August remained silent and grabbed two plates from the drain board, placing some food on each.

            "Oh, guess what," Grace began.

            "What?" August asked with sincere interest.

            "There's this documentary on tonight. I was planning on watching it. It's about Rashomon, you know, one of those behind the scenes things. It's on in a few minutes. Do you want to watch it? We can eat in the living room."

            August made no sound or gesture at first, and Grace was certain he was going to decline. Figuring she had nothing to lose, she added, jokingly, "I think it's really important for you to see it," she replied. "For educational purposes, of course."

            He laughed thinking of the words he had spoken to her when they went to see Rashomon her junior year_. I mean, this is a groundbreaking film, I consider it a key part of your education, and I don't intend for you to miss it. And you're going to love it._ He smiled fondly remembering that night, their last night of happiness before all hell broke loose at school.

            "Okay," he relented. He smiled. "So now you're educating me?" he joked.

            Grace nodded confidently. "I think you could learn a lot from me," she teased.

            August smiled sincerely, following her out of the kitchen. "Somehow I don't doubt that," he whispered, but Grace, already turning the television on, didn't seem to hear him.

            They sat down next to each other on the small sofa, Grace no longer distracted by its awful pink color. They watched the hour long documentary in relative silence, only peeling their eyes from the television set to eat their late dinner. They were both too nervous to speak a single word to each other or even meet the other's eye. When the documentary ended, they both sat silently, a little too stiffly, neither moving.

            "So, what did you think?" Grace asked, still not daring to look at him. She was engaged, she kept reminding herself. They _really_ couldn't do this now.

            "It was good," August said honestly. "I love going into the author's mind, finding out why he wrote what in the script."

            Grace nodded. "Yeah, me too." She stood up and switched the tv off. She grabbed August's plate without another word and headed into the kitchen, soaking them under hot water. Grabbing a sponge she began scrubbing the plates in silence, fully aware of August's presence behind her. She finished the dishes, and turned around to face August, her hands still wet.

            "I…I don't have a towel," she said poignantly, as if that somehow explained the entire night's events.

            August nodded. "You don't need one," he insisted, entwining his hands with hers.

            "But, your hands will get wet," she protested, though she made no attempt to pull away as he stepped closer.

            "They'll dry," he assured her as his mouth closed in around hers. Grace forgot everything in her life except for him. She unleashed all of the emotion and tension and awkwardness they had fought and tried to deny all night, not caring about anything except for kissing him, and how amazing it made her feel. Kissing Marcus never made her feel amazing. Marcus. Her fiancé. Her eyes widened suddenly.

            "August, stop," she insisted, pulling away. "We can't…"

            August sighed and backed up. "I know, I know," he said. "It's just…it's not fair Grace. I lost you once, and now I have to let you go again."

            Grace's heart fell to the floor at this confession. "I know, but…it's not easy for me either. Not at all. There's something between us, I know that, you know that. And it's never going to die, never. But, that doesn't mean we should risk losing the stability our lives have now, just for something as irrational as…"

            "Love?" August finished, looking agitated.

            Grace opened and closed her mouth several times. "I…I was going to say…an affair. Like…like in 'Madame Bovary' or…"

            "Grace when are you going to wake up and realize this isn't some novel?" August snapped. "And it in no way compares to 'Madame Bovary'. Madame Bovary had affairs to try and find love. We already _have_ that. We don't need to look anymore. What we have is _real_ Grace. It's real. And I don't know about you, but I don't want to lose that."

            "I don't either," she admitted. "But…I…"

            "Be strong Grace," he encouraged her. "You're the strongest woman I know."

            "I'm trying to," she insisted. "But it's hard to be strong knowing I can't have you…knowing Celia…"

            "I don't give a damn about Celia," August said rapidly. "I thought you'd have realized that by now. I don't love her, I never had, never even pretended to. She knows that. She doesn't love me either."

            "So you two never….had sex?" Grace asked.

            August shook his head in disbelief. "Grace how can you be so wise and naïve at the same time?" he asked. "Of course we have. Sex isn't always about love, Grace. You ought to know that."

            Grace nodded. "I do, but I just thought that with you…." She sighed as she realized that however different August may be from other men, underneath, inside, he still was one. A man.

            "Grace, I need to ask you something," August said calmly, walking towards her. Grace nodded, staring at his hair. No one should have hair that looked that good, she thought.

            "What?" she breathed.

            "Do you love him?" he asked. "Marcus?"

            Grace froze. "Marcus," she repeated.

            "Yes," August said, making her feel inferior once more. "Do you love Marcus?"

            "I…I'm engaged," she defended. "Only people in love get engaged."

            August cocked an eyebrow.

            "Well, only people who are in love _should_ get engaged," she insisted. Her head was spinning too quickly. She needed to sit down. She couldn't see straight.

            "Should _you_ be engaged?" he asked.

            "Yes," Grace said too quickly.

            "To Marcus?" August questioned, his eyes glowing a fiercely emerald color that Grace thought otherworldly.

            "I…I need to sit down," Grace said, feeling weak.

            "No you don't," August said. "You're too strong for that."

            "Maybe I'm not," she insisted. "Maybe I'm not as strong as you think. Maybe I'm not anything you think." She kept rambling, not truly meaning a word of it. August saw through her lies.

            "You still have lonely eyes Grace. Does Marcus think you have lonely eyes?"

            "No," she admitted. She couldn't help herself. She was a slave to his words. She always had been. He always knew her so well, _too_ well. She hated and loved that at the same time. Now all she could do was press her lips to his and hope her life would figure itself out. But, still, she pulled away once more.

            "I have a whole life in New York, you know," she insisted. "I have a job, and friends, and god, _Marcus_."

            August's eyes studied her face carefully. Grace stood deathly still afraid to move or talk, not trusting her intentions. Outside she could hear the faint pattering of raindrops.

            "Then why did you run away?" he asked at last.

            "Run away?" Grace questioned. "I didn't run away. I came here to…to plan my wedding." Her voice had faltered and failed her and she knew at once he knew her secret. She hung her head in shame. "Maybe I ran a little bit…but with all intentions of coming back."

            "You're always running Gracie," he said. "What are you searching for?"

            "Nothing, I…" Her voice steadied and she no longer let her outer shell decide what she would and would not say. "Everything," she said strongly. "I'm looking for _me_. I'm looking for love and acceptance and just, happiness. And no matter where I go, I'm afraid that I'll never find…"

            "Shh," August cooed. "Can you think of one truly happy moment in your life?"

            "Yes," Grace said automatically.

            "When?" August asked.

            "The night I read 'On Love' by Chekhov," she said. "It was so sad, and yet oddly inspiring and hopeful. Like us. Like our relationship. It gave me hope." Grace met August's eyes hesitantly. She wasn't holding anything back anymore.

            "And have you still been holding onto that hope, or did you lose it?" August asked solemnly.

            Grace chose her words carefully. "You can never lose something that's dear to your heart."

            "Don't speak in riddles Grace," August warned.

            "Why?" Grace asked. "That's what we've always done. The fun in it was trying to figure out what the other really meant."

            "I don't want to figure it out," August insisted. "I want to know. Grace I want to know what you want."

            Grace fought inwardly. She wanted to be faithful to Marcus, but August wasn't making any of this easy. But she didn't want to lie. She never could lie to August, not really. She hesitated as she searched for words, and in this second of hesitation, he knew.

            "You never gave up on us did you?" August asked quietly.

            Lightening struck in Grace's eyes as she came to terms with this realization. "No," she admitted slowly. "I…I guess I never did."

            Grace jumped as she heard the front door being unlocked. She shot August a pleading look and he hurried into the living room and, Grace hoped, to the front door.

            "Hey babe," Marcus said, walking inside. He stood by the door and grinned. "Guess what!"

            Grace shrugged, her eyes still peeled to August in the living room. He stood frozen by the front door, knowing that if he attempted to open the door, the sound would surely alert Marcus.

            "Marci called," he beamed.

            Grace stared at him for a full minute before remembering who Marci was. "Oh, your agent."

            "Yes," Marcus said excitedly. "And, you're going to love this. She found a job for me starting in two weeks. It's a year long tour in Europe as Danny in Grease! Isn't that amazing? Just think Europe."

            Grace looked at him in a new light. "What about the wedding?"

            Marcus looked confused for a moment and Grace suddenly realized that he hadn't considered the wedding as a problem with this job.

            "You forgot?" Grace asked, angrily.

            "No!" Marcus insisted. "It's just…Grace…this is my dream. Can't we postpone it? Or, we can get married in Europe in one of those churches that always fascinated you."

            "Cathedrals?" Grace asked.

            "Yeah, one of those," Marcus said.

            Grace shook her head. "But what about my work? My ambitions? My writing?"

            Marcus shrugged. "They have pens in Europe," he joked.

            "Marcus, that isn't funny," Grace said seriously. "Not at all."

            "Look, Grace," Marcus began slowly. "Maybe we rushed into this whole marriage thing a little too quickly. Maybe…maybe we should have a longer engagement. That way you can do your thing and I can do my thing."

            Grace nodded, taking this in. "Okay."

            Marcus stared at her for a moment, as if expecting her to protest. "So this is it?"

            Grace froze. "I don't know," she admitted. "Marcus…" she began. "Do you…do you love me?"

            Marcus shot Grace a stunned look. "Of course I do."

            "I know but…do you…do you really love me?" she asked. Marcus still looked confused as to what she wanted him to say. "Kathleen…your ex wife…you loved her. I mean you _really_ loved her," Grace said. "Is that the way you love me?"

            "I…." Marcus couldn't bring the words to his mouth.

            Grace nodded bitterly. "You don't," she concluded.

            "Grace, I…"

            "No, Marcus, please don't," Grace insisted. "I'm not hurt. I can't pretend I love you that way either. I do care for you Marcus, but, not in the same way you loved Kathleen. And that's what I want. That's what I _need_. I need real, overwhelming, breathtaking love. And I…I don't even know if that exists, but…."

            "It does," Marcus assured her, and Grace could see all of the pain he felt when he lost his first wife. Her death had torn apart his world, but he never spoke of her, and now Grace could plainly see all of that long built up pain painted across his face.

            Grace forced a smile. "You need to get over Kathleen before you can move on," she told him. He nodded in agreement and Grace sighed. "I don't know who we thought we were fooling with this marriage."

            "Grace," Marcus began, "Don't start blaming people. It's no one's fault. I think we just both need some time and space, alone."

            Grace nodded.

            "How about this?" Marcus began. "After my year's up in Europe, I'll come back, and we'll see if there's anything left…of us."

            "Okay," Grace agreed as he kissed her gently on the forehead. "I do love you Grace."

            "I know," she said, sliding the ring off her finger and handing it to him. "Don't say no," she whispered, "Just take it."

            Marcus pulled away, the ring in his hand and nodded.

            "Good luck," she added.

            Marcus smiled wearily. "I'd say same to you, but you don't need luck Grace. You never did."

            Grace managed a weak smile although her body was trembling. She watched as Marcus left, shutting the door softly behind him. She didn't allow any tears to fall until she was certain she saw his headlights pull out of the driveway. She didn't cry, but silent tears did swarm her face.

            "Grace," a soft voice called.

            Grace gasped. She had forgotten August was in the other room. She turned, still trembling, and met his voice. "Y…yes," she said shakily.

            August didn't speak another word. He didn't need to. He just embraced her tightly, pulling her down onto the couch. He let her cry and scream. He let her vent and ramble on. He let her hurt.

            "Do you want to know why I was crying?" Grace asked at last, a good twenty minutes later. She lay across the couch, her head in his lap, a blanket thrown across her stretched out body.

            "Why?" August asked, stroking her auburn locks, knowing it was healthy to get her to talk about her emotions. She normally didn't like to.

            "You'll think there's something wrong with me if I tell you," Grace insisted.

            August suppressed the urge to laugh. "Never," he assured her.

            "All right," Grace said. She tore her eyes from staring at the spinning ceiling fan to stare into his deep green eyes. "I was crying because I thought something was wrong with me…"

            "Grace," August cooed. "Nothing's wrong with you. A lot of marriages…"

            "No, no," Grace interrupted. "I wish that was why I was crying; because of the breakup between Marcus and I. But it wasn't. And that's why I was crying." She paused and August knew better than to interrupt. "I felt like something was wrong with me, like I should be crying, and if I didn't I wasn't human or feeling or sensitive. But, I didn't feel much of anything. I really didn't. And that's why I was crying, I think; to make sure I still knew how to." She examined the meaning of her own words for another moment. "Does that make any sense?" she asked, studying August's expression.

            "My dear," he began. "I think that is the most sense you've made all day."

            Grace smiled gratefully and he kissed her nose. "Now go to sleep," he insisted.

            "No," Grace fought. "Not like this. It's not fair to you."

            August smiled. "Trust me, I'm fine."

            Grace shook her head and slowly rose to her feet. She still felt weak, but at least she wasn't trembling. She took August's hand and led him into the bedroom and they sat down on the bed.

            "Just stay overnight with me?" Grace asked, shooting him a pleading look. She knew he wouldn't resist if she begged.

            "Okay," August agreed, pushing a stray strand of hair behind her ear. "I'll stay."

            Grace smiled and nestled herself under the covers. She waited for August to get in on the other side before turning off the bedside lamp. Grace then turned over to face August.

            "Hey," she said softly.

            "Hey," he smiled.

            She clasped her hand between his and stared into his eyes for what felt like eternity. At last she grinned, and began to feel the lull of sleep calling for her. Burying her head deeper into the pillow, she asked, "Do my eyes still look lonely?"

            August just smiled, not uttering a word. Grace drifted off to sleep, the last picture present in her mind being the warmth of August's face as he watched over her.

XxX

Next chapter: August faces an odd and awkward confrontation with Grace's parents and Jessie tells Grace some shocking news. Also, Zoe faces problems at home and asks Grace for a rather large favor.


End file.
